A Selfless Comet
by Tsar Bomba
Summary: Missy/Clara oneshot, heavily inspired by A Comet Appears by The Shins


"I've brought you a gift."

This wasn't a surprise. Neither were Missy's sudden visits at varying times of the day and night. No doubt she was aware of every scarce hour that Clara wasn't with the Doctor (who she had, out of envy, taken to calling Clara's Übermensch), for she always took advantage.

Missy's propensity for giving gifts had been revealed at their first meeting, when she'd tried to present the Doctor an army. Most of her gifts were given selfishly and Clara guessed at the ulterior motive. Missy masked loneliness with rage and with grandiose gestures in equal measure, but the _why_ had started to be of less and less import to Clara. She took a deep breath to give herself some weight, as she often did when Missy revealed herself to her and made her feel as if she had a stomach full of vapor.

Missy stood with her hands behind her back, hiding something that faintly glowed in the predawn haze. She was framed by the night, the pale star glow and the light from the street lamps. She looked like she'd conjured herself directly from the darkness to stand on Clara's porch, at three in the morning, unphased by time as most Time Lords and Ladies are apt to be. There was no point mentioning it. Bleeding up into the sky was the faintest hint of golden light at the border of the horizon. Clara's arms were crossed over her chest. She shivered in the morning chill. She, unlike some people, had to go to work in a couple of hours but she couldn't bring herself feign annoyance well with the Mistress anymore, as hard as she tried.

"What is it?"

" _Guess_ ," Missy said, her voice excited and almost childlike.

"I'm no good at guessing."

"God, you're dull," Missy said, rolling her eyes. Given the intensity of her expression Clara almost wondered if Missy was gifting her with a pout. Then she brought her hands around to the front of her body. Clara's eyes were still adjusted to the dark and she was momentarily blinded by what rested in Missy's open palms. It looked like she was holding an orb of pure white light. A little sun. Clara blinked at it as the edges formed themselves out of the brightness and she realized what it was.

"Oh," Clara said, her face softening in awe. It was a tiny comet, frozen in time and made small enough to hold. Clara had no idea the amount of magic required to do this and she supposed she never would. She could make out minute details, the tiny, icy, celestial body at the forefront, the cerulean and gold and red flaring out from the tail, halted in a state of constant motion. It hummed faintly and floated like a mote of dust.

"Wow," Clara whispered, unable to say much else. Missy was watching her face. "You like it then?"

"This is for me?" Clara said, dumbfounded, nodding her chin at the tiny thing. Missy huffed impatiently. "I _did_ say I brought you something, didn't I?"

"You brought me a comet."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Missy blanched. Clara had offended her. She hadn't meant to. "Why? Because I _wanted_ to. If _you_ don't want it I'll just put it back, you ungrateful-"

"No!" Clara nearly shouted. Her neighbors would be furious with her in the morning. "No, don't do that. I'm sorry, I just..."

She briefly appreciated the beauty of that imagery: Missy, consumed by her rage and jealousy, hurtling the comet back into whatever remote corner of the universe she'd captured it from, like a child throwing a rock through a window. But Clara felt greedy. This was _her_ comet. Missy had said so.

The Mistress had calmed down, sated by Clara's apology, and now held her hands out, the little light within still humming. Clara realized what she was hearing was the muted roar of the thing. Missy smirked at her, hands around the wily comet like a she was holding a wild bird. "Take it carefully."

Clara gently placed the backs of her hands on Missy's palms. They were freezing and Clara felt a jolt shoot up her arms at the contact. The tiny hairs on her arms pressed against her sleeves. She swallowed, hoping to mask her blush. Carefully she lifted it, drawing it up and towards her chest. She briefly wondered that if she dropped it if it would shatter like glass.

Missy echoed her thoughts with a statement of her own. "Don't get clumsy with it," she said. "I can only imagine that the consequences of dropping a comet on the ground would be _hilariously_ catastrophic."

She almost sounded like she wanted her to, just to see what happened. Clara cradled it in her palms, turning her hands to look at it from different angles. It was cold but not uncomfortably so. Missy stood there with her, studying it. Clara realized that, similar to what Missy had done with the airplanes, that to keep the comet like this required constant attention. Not much, likely, for something that was now so small, but Clara wondered at the fact that part of Missy was now bound to her comet, and by proxy to herself.

Clara flicked her eyes up Missy's face and met pale eyes piercing her through the darkness. Missy was watching Clara with the same careful wonder and intensity with which Clara regarded the comet. She let out a shaky breath.

The Mistress never hid her obsessions but instead lived within them, always on the verge of becoming one as much as she was possessing of them. The fury and the dedication with which she'd pursued Clara had been no different but somehow it had seemed gentler, like a violent wind carrying a leaf. Clara did not know why she had been chosen. She knew why Missy had picked Clara for the Doctor; she did not know why Missy had picked Clara for _herself_. Maybe it didn't matter if it felt like this. Missy studied her with open devotion, somehow the forest of bygone sins laid out flat out by the virtue of her impatient dedication. To say that Clara was conflicted by this woman would be an understatement. She briefly shut her eyes as if to corral this moment into her memory before Missy ruined it with another terrible deed.

"I thought about getting you a star, had my eye on a particular one for a while, but obviously _that_ would have killed eveything in its system," Missy said quietly, adding the last bit almost as an afterthought. "I wouldn't have cared but I know you would've, you big softy. I'll take you to see it sometime."

She'd once imagined the devils on Missy's shoulders like birds on a power line, making it heavy and swayed. She wanted to believe that with every good thing Missy did for Clara's benefit that maybe one of those birds flew away and took with it a chance of something diabolical, like a choir of furies in her head silencing themselves mouth by mouth.

She didn't allow herself to think of Missy as something of hers to fix or heal, however. That would demean her, and an injured animal is still a dangerous one. Nonetheless, the part of Clara that wasn't screaming for her to flee felt obligated to this woman. Like the second chance that Missy needed was hers to give and no one else's. It had become too easy for Clara to carve away Missy's wrongdoings so that all that was left was the way she looked at her. She glanced down at her selflessly given comet, the light glancing off her dark eyes. Clara could acknowledge that she was trying very hard to cement something that was likely doomed to failure. Stories like this don't end happily. The frailty of Missy's goodness was light enough to be blown away by the wind of a passing wasp, but nonetheless Clara held it to herself, cradling the cold thing into her chest, listened to it roar for her, allowed it to still its perpetual, million year motion and simply be with her for a while. She looked back up at Missy with reverence in her gaze and knew that what reflected between their eyes was the same.

"Thank you," Clara said quietly, speaking low as if she was afraid of shattering the perfect stillness between them.

"You know, it's customary for the discoverer of the comet to christen it," Missy said, "but since I'm being so nice and giving it to you, I think you should."

"What should I call it?"

"Something nice."

"Missy," Clara said, both as a name and just because she wanted to say it.

Missy smirked, and looked like she maybe wanted to kiss her, and Clara thought that if she tried she would allow her, with all that was good in her held between their hearts, humming and glowing, vibrant and tenuous.

That morning, a little after three, standing on the porch in the predawn dark, it was ultimately Clara who leaned forward first, since just because Missy was the first to steal a comet didn't mean she should be the first to steal that kiss.


End file.
